


a door that is closing

by thesaddestboner



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Angst, Detroit Tigers, Gen, Religious Conflict, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Subtext, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-03
Updated: 2010-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-14 02:59:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/pseuds/thesaddestboner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Five days.  Three games.  Not even a cup of coffee.  More like a shot of espresso or something.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	a door that is closing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://alowishus812.livejournal.com/203860.html?style=mine&thread=1439316) at the [Anonymous Baseball RPS Kink Meme 2010](http://alowishus812.livejournal.com/203860.html?style=mine). I failed pretty damn hard at sticking with the original prompt. OOPS. 
> 
> Working title was “Larish emo,” which I think fits this thing to a tee.
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

“Sometimes we stare so long at a door that is closing that we see too late the one that is open.”

— Alexander Graham Bell

Five days. Three games. Not even a cup of coffee. More like a shot of espresso or something.

Five days, three games and he’s being sent down-- no, he’s being _designated for assignment_. They wanted to get rid of him so badly they designated his contract, knowing he could opt for free agency if he wanted to.

He wants to. God, he wants to. He wants to get the hell away from this team and catch on somewhere else and stick it to them. But he wants to stay. He wants to be a Tiger because that’s what he’s been preparing for since ’05. He wants to stay because Will’s there.

Will. Christ.

Jeff doesn’t realize he’s gripping his hands into fists until his knuckles crack. He flexes his fingers out and rubs them through his damp curly hair.

The door to the hotel room he and Will have been staying in since they roadtripped it up from Toledo together opens and Will steps in. He nudges the door shut with the toe of his Nike and it closes with a gentle _snick_.

“Hey,” Will says, “I heard.”

“Yeah.” Jeff looks at his hands, which are resting on his knees now, fingernails ticking against denim.

“I’m sorry, man,” Will starts, but Jeff heads him off.

“It’s fine, Will. Really.” Jeff pushes himself to his feet and turns, grabbing his nylon duffel bag off the end of his bed and dropping it on the floor. He picks up an armful of clothes and dumps them in.

“It’s not fine, it sucks,” Will says quietly. He stands there in the doorway and reaches back to scratch at his hair, which is long and curly like Jeff’s. Their Toledo teammates-- ex-teammates now-- had taken to calling them the Doublemint Twins because, despite the six inch height difference, they did look a lot alike. They were best friends and did everything together, too, and of course their Toledo teammates got on them for that.

Jeff scoops the last of his clothes off the bed and shoves them into the bag.

“Jeff,” Will says.

He looks up. “What _is_ it?” He doesn’t mean to be so short and snappish with Will. It’s not like it’s _his_ fault he’s being cut loose. The team doesn’t need Jeff now that they’ve got Jhonny Peralta riding in on his white horse. It makes perfect sense and he hates it. He hates that he can’t even argue it with himself.

Will glances down. “What d’you think’ll happen? Think you’ll clear waivers?” _Think you’ll make it back to Toledo_ , Jeff hears.

“I dunno,” Jeff says, pulling the flaps of his duffel bag closed and zipping it up. “If I make it past waivers I can opt for free agency.”

“Oh.”

Jeff looks back at Will and shrugs jerkily, feeling defensive and not really sure why. “Why would I wanna go back to Toledo?”

“I’ll probably end up back in Toledo,” Will says. “When Guillén comes back. He’s ahead of schedule.”

Jeff sighs and looks back at his bag. “I’m sorry, Will,” he says to his bag. _Sorry I won’t be there when you get back. Sorry you’ll get screwed over too when someone better comes to take your spot. Sorry--_

Will shuffle-steps closer and reaches out, dropping his hand lightly on Jeff’s shoulder. Jeff raises his head. “You don’t have to apologize, man.” He squeezes on Jeff’s shoulder. “You’ll find a team. You’ll be fine.” Will smiles at him, trying to be reassuring, but Jeff can see the cracks around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth.

Something inside Jeff breaks at that and then he can’t stop the words from flowing out of his mouth unbidden. “It sucks, man, I hate it. I _hate_ it. I’m so tired of this. I just want to-- ” He reaches up and grabs onto Will’s hand, pulling it away from his shoulder. Will’s eyes widen, like he’s afraid Jeff might hit him or something. He just lets go of Will’s hand and lowers his head heavily. “I have to be patient, right? It’s what the Bible says, ‘the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit.’ And all of those bullshit motivational posters in L.P.’s office. ‘Good things come to those who wait.’ Well, I’ve been waiting since ’05 and it’s not _fair_.”

He’s whining now, his voice high-pitched and strained, and he kind of hates himself a little bit. Some guys never get a sniff of Triple-A, let alone seventy-seven games in the Show like Jeff has. He should be thankful, and deep down inside, he knows he is. But right now? It fucking hurts.

Will reaches out and grabs on his shoulder, but Jeff avoids his gaze, ashamed of his outburst. “C’mon, man. Look at me.” After a couple minutes of mute defiance, Jeff finally does as he says and looks at him. “It’s not the end.”

“It _is_ the-- ” Jeff tries, but Will gives him a hard look, mouth pursed, and he shuts up.

“It just seems like it now, but it’s not, believe me,” Will says, softly insistent.

Jeff really wants to kiss him right then, but he fights the weird, random urge off. _The carnal mind is enmity against God._ “I know. I’m just frustrated.”

“You’re always talking about God’s plan for you,” Will continues, still speaking in that soft yet firm tone. His voice flows smooth, like water over pebbles. _Will would have made a pretty good televangelist_ , Jeff thinks, _if he’d been so inclined_. “This has to be part of His plan, doesn’t it?”

Jeff can feel his heart shuddering in his chest, caught in a tug of war between _God’s plan_ and everything else. He feels guilty for all the doubt currently bowing his neck and weighing him down. Will’s hand is still on his shoulder, strong and steadying.

“You think it’s in God’s plan for me to leave you?” Jeff wishes immediately that he hadn’t said that. It sounds really gay.

Will furrows his brow. “What?”

“You’re my best friend,” Jeff says quickly. “What’re you gonna do without me to keep an eye on you?” He laughs choppily, awkwardly, trying to turn it into a joke, but Will doesn’t bite.

He moves his hand to Jeff’s cheek and traces his fingertips along his jawline. Jeff holds himself very still, afraid to move. He’s not sure what’s happening, why Will is touching him like this. He knows that it’s wrong for a multitude reasons, what the Bible says notwithstanding.

Suddenly, Jeff can’t stop himself from focusing on Will’s eyelashes. They’re just _there_ and they’re fascinating, and he wonders if there’s enough time in the world for him to ever count them all. He feels obliged to tease him about it like the Toledo guys used to, call him Cover Girl or something clever like that, but his mouth is dry and his tongue is heavy, leaden. Also, it’s really weird that he just thought about Will’s eyelashes. Will’s hand is on his cheek, and his palm is warm.

Neither of them have moved but an inch and Jeff wants to ask him _why are you doing this_ , _what does this even mean_ , _are you like that_ , _am_ i _, are you going to kiss me, do you want to, do i_ \-- Jeff bites on his tongue hard to keep the words from spilling out.

Then Will’s fingers find Jeff’s hair and curl in them, easy, like they’ve done this before. His hand slips from Jeff’s hair to the back of his neck and he’s pulling him down, standing on the tips of his toes to make up the difference in their heights.

Jeff touches his shoulder. “Wait,” he blurts out.

“What?” Will asks, pausing.

“I don’t know if-- what are we even doing,” Jeff asks.

“Are you having a freakout?”

“I’m not, I’m not freaking out,” Jeff says. He glances down at his hand on Will’s shoulder, at the ring on his fourth finger. Seeing it, the symbol of his promise to Julia and to God, steels his spine. “I can’t.”

Will catches his gaze. “Julia,” he says, nodding a little.

“Yeah. And all that other stuff,” Jeff sighs. _All that other stuff. God, the Bible, my church, baseball, et cetera._ He ticks his fingernail on the shoulder seam of Will’s t-shirt.

Will slips his hand away from Jeff’s neck to scratch at the back of his own. “Sorry.”

Jeff focuses on a wrinkle on the front of Will’s t-shirt. “It’s okay.”

Will stands there, looking uncomfortable. “Are you all finished packing? I could, uh-- ”

“Yeah,” Jeff cuts him off, “I’m done.” He looks down at his bag and nudges it with his foot, frowning a little.

“Okay,” Will says, sidestepping Jeff and his bag for the minibar. He pulls out a bottled water and twists off the cap, tips his head back and takes a long pull.

Jeff picks up his duffel by its strap. “I guess I’ll see you around. If I make it to Toledo,” he says over his shoulder.

“Yeah. I’ll call you,” Will says.

“ ’Bye, Will.” Jeff turns and heads for the door.

“Jeff, wait.”

Jeff stops and looks at the door. He hears Will’s footsteps thump lightly as he comes up behind him. Will grabs onto his arm and Jeff turns.

“What is it?”

Will grabs him in a hug, arms fitting tightly around Jeff’s waist. “Don’t be a stranger, okay? No matter what happens.”

“I won’t. Promise.” Jeff returns the hug slowly, his entire body moving like it’s caught in molasses. He closes his eyes and sighs deeply.

Will finally steps back and smiles, tucking a flyaway piece of hair behind his ear. Jeff feels himself smiling back. “ ’Bye, Jeff.”

Jeff nods, tipping the brim of an invisible baseball cap to Will and Will does the same. He slings his duffel bag over his shoulder and leaves. He leaves the door open just a sliver and he’s not entirely sure why. Jeff just knows that if he ever makes it back, Will’s going to be there.

He shrugs to himself. Might as well leave the door open.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


End file.
